


Four years later

by AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst



Series: Ivar x Fredrika [6]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Drinking, Efterfest alternative ending, F/M, Fredrika is a borderline alcoholic, Non-con choking, Smut, Vikings modern au, alternative ending, shitty consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst
Summary: An alternative ending to my fic, Efterfest. This is much more like the ending I originally had planned for that fic.Please read the tags properly and decide if this is something you can handle reading.





	Four years later

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Efterfest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957863) by [AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst). 



The gala is passing by more smoothly than expected; I even delivered my speech at the beginning of the tour without losing track of the cards that Adina had helped me prepare. Of course it wouldn’t last. I’ve just started questioning Mihkkal about Julita gård, the venue that Jonathan and I are thinking about booking for our wedding, when the museum’s director calls us both over to meet another guest. I turn, wide smile still decorating my face. And freeze. The last time I was face to face with Ivar was when he stopped by the house, unannounced, to give me back my shirt. I’d sent him away, his attempt at an apology not nearly enough to make me want to become involved with his family again. In the years since I’ve feigned sudden blindness whenever we’ve happened across each other on campus or out on town. Mihkkal, only briefly taken aback by my strange behavior, takes me by the arm and guides me towards the director. Ever the gentleman. By the time we reach the duo I’ve put my gala-smile back on and decided on a course of action: unless Ivar makes it obvious that we already know each other, I will act as if I’ve never seen him before. The last time I saw him he wasn’t capable of getting his facial hair to grow beyond a light stubble but now he sports a thick beard. I can’t help but wonder if he’s grown it in order to look older, to give an aura of respect to the employees used to being led by the almost twice as old Björn. We take turns shaking Ivar’s hand. So far he hasn’t given any hints as to our past but I’m certain that his fingers linger around mine.

“Mr. Ragnarsson here missed the tour earlier tonight.” Director Edelman explains.

“Traffic was a nightmare,” Ivar says apologetically “I arrived just in time to see you return to the hall.” He looks at both me and Mihkkal but it is obvious which one of us he means. That explains the feeling of being watched.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,“ Edelman says with a dismissive wave of his hand “But perhaps Fredrika and Mihkkal would be willing to show you around before dinner starts.” If any of the men present notice the spike in my discomfort, they don’t comment on it.

“I would love to but I have promised Hans to help him with the introductions, he’s still new at the job. I can assure you Fredrika here is more than qualified to give the tour on her own.” Normally I appreciate my coworker’s willingness to correct anyone who might be hesitant of my competence but just this once I wish he would have been more willing to shove me aside.

“I’m sure she is.” Ivar says softly. The director asks me if I’ll manage and, in spite of the inner turmoil, I hear myself answer ‘of course’. Edelman and Mihkkal quickly excuse themselves to attend to their other responsibilities, leaving me alone with Ivar. I give the room a once over, deliberately making it seem as if I am looking for someone I know won’t be here.

“Where’s Sara?” My tone is overly chipper, probably revealing that I already know what happened. Ivar sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“It didn’t work out.” He informs me. Their broken engagement had been broadcasted in every last one of the gossip magazines that could be found in my dentist’s waiting room.

“She cheated on me. With Sigurd.”  _ Married _ Sigurd. It’s tempting to scoff that shitty treatment of women seem to be somewhat of a family trait but the small part of me that actually feels sorry for Ivar wins out and I cast my gaze down. Before he can get another word in and gain more sympathy points, I gesture towards the corridor.

“If you’ll follow me, mr. Ragnarsson. We don’t have much time before dinner starts.”

 

*******

 

Somehow we’ve ended up outside Mihkkal’s and mine office. My attempt to slam the door in Ivar’s face fails monumentally as he blocks it with his cane and slips in behind me. Ivar lounges over by the door as I rifle through my coworker’s drawers in search of the special occasion bottle. Mihkkal had gotten it to celebrate the museum receiving a huge amount of money to build a new wing for our Sápmi exhibit. I’ve been good, at least for the past six months. Every single event Jonathan and I’ve been to lately, I’ve accepted the first glass of champagne then switched to water. As much as my fiancé worried he was too shy to ask me about it. Everyone has their limits, I tell myself as I pour a drink, and Ivar pushes at every single one of mine. The Ileach burns going down my throat, enough so that I have to carefully wipe my eyes after finishing it. I’d be damned if I left the office with my mascara smeared, having cried over an old and unrequited crush. My overwhelmingly male coworkers don’t need another reason to think I’m some delicate flower. 

“That dress really suits you,” Ivar shuffles closer as he speaks, gaze never leaving me “But I have to admit I’ve always preferred you in blue.” The whisky sloshes in the glass as I turn on him.

“What I wear is none of your business.” The words come out harsher than intended but Ivar still seems unfazed by them. 

“Haven’t you heard the news?” He grins awkwardly, making a sweeping gesture “I have a hand in everyone’s business now.” My lips press into a thin line, head shaking in disbelief. It seems as if it dawns on him that he’s overstepped some boundary, because Ivar takes a step back and lets his arm fall back to his side. Another long moment of silence between us passes while I refill the glass. As I raise it, Ivar clears his throat and nods, indicating the ring on my finger.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I know I should congratulate him on his new job but the words stick in my throat. Sigurd’s relocation to London and Ubbe stepping down; people had been shocked to say the least. Elin’s girlfriend works in the finance sector and she’s been so worked up about the news one could think she was personally involved with the family. Seeing pictures of Scandinavia’s most famous family plastered at the front of every newspaper tore open the wounds that I’d worked so hard to heal. Jonathan, to his credit, never asked me about it. He made sure to read the news at his office for as long as media was covering the news.

“Where’s Jonathan?” He asks, doing a much better job than me at keeping his voice level. I don’t know why it surprises me that he knows who I’m engaged to.

“He’s in Scotland. A movie producer hired him as a consultant.”

“You must feel lonely.” Ivar prods and I grit my teeth. I don’t like this Ivar, this person that he has seemingly become since stepping up in the family business.

“He’ll only be gone for another week. I can manage.” Ivar looks sceptical but he doesn’t say anything. Only shuffles closer until he can reach across the desk and brush his fingers down my arm. It’s oddly soothing, feeling his calloused fingertips run along my skin. Then it hits me how inappropriate this is. I flinch, pulling all the way back into the corner. Ivar has the same look as a kicked dog.

“That day when you came to apologize-” I pause to steady my voice ”-Sending you away is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” For a brief moment, Ivar actually does look guilty. Then his self-assured mask slips back on and he creeps closer.

“You didn’t have to.” He says, beginning to round the desk. It makes my anger flare back up, overtaking the exhaustion, and I spit out the next words, knuckles white as they clutch at the glass.

“Your entire family treated me like shit, Ivar. You treated me like shit.” He’s close enough now that I can tell he hasn’t changed his conditioner since last time we met.

“But I didn’t mean to,” Ivar says, voice and face heavy with urgency “you have to know that.” His fingers wander down my cheek, breath hitching in my throat. He wraps one hand around the back of my neck and I automatically tilt my chin up. Warning bells go off in my head but I can’t be bothered with listening to them. Our noses briefly touch. Then his lips descend on me. Ivar was always a good kisser, certainly much better than he gave himself credit for. He moves with confidence; plundering my mouth until I’m out of breath and taking my bottom lip in between his teeth to give it a sharp bite. When he retreats, Ivar’s thumb brushes at my pulse point and I whimper, pressing into his featherlight grip. His lips touch against mine again but only for a split second. Pulling back, Ivar’s breath tickles my cheek.

“Come home with me.” He whispers. His words break the trance. My free hand strikes, palm hitting him flat in the chest and sending him stumbling backwards. I stare daggers at him.

“You have some fucking nerve.” With that, I drain the glass then shove my way past him.

  
  


*******

 

By the time dessert is served, I’ve worked up a pleasant enough buzz to help keep my mind off Ivar. Well, it was supposed to help. The bastard is seated close enough that we have a clear line of sight of each other. It doesn’t help that he’s on his most charming behaviour, something that he appears to have worked on. My mind begins to wander again. What would have happened between us four years ago? If we’d both been confident enough to talk to each other, to not let Ubbe or anyone else come in between us. It’s unfair of me to wonder, I know that, but I can’t help it.

“Are you okay?” Mihkkal’s voice breaks my train of thought. Carefully setting my spoon aside, I look down at my lap.

“I miss him.” I admit in a low voice. He finds my hand under the table and squeezes.

“It’s just six more days,” Mihkkal soothes me “Then we can all go look at Julita gård together. Motya has already started compiling a list of caterers for you.”

“Yeah,” I attempt to return his smile “It will be fun.” Ubbe doesn’t even live here anymore; how much can he ruin from their great grandfather's farm in Norway? It’s a dangerous train of thought but it refuses to leave me alone as I scoop up the last of the cloudberries. Further down the table, Ivar meets my gaze. And when he goes outside to smoke, I follow him.

 

*******

  
  


I can feel the driver judging me and had I been more sober I might have snapped at him to pull over and let me out. Working mostly with old men has forced me to adopt a new no nonsense attitude and really issuing an order to the mousy looking driver shouldn’t pose much of an issue. But instead I lean into Ivar’s embrace and let him pet at my hip, dragging the purple satin back and forth under his large palm.

 

He still lives in the same apartment. The elevator hasn’t even closed yet when he starts to tug at my arm, bringing me in close enough so that he can brush his lips over my brow.  Glancing down, the outline of an erection is already visible through his suit pants. It stings to think he might have discovered that with someone else. With Sara. Perfect Sara that his family adores, Sigurd perhaps a little too much. Just the thought of the objectively gorgeous woman leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Needing a distraction, I bring Ivar in close by the lapels of his coat and seek out his mouth. He gives a pleased growl and reciprocates. By the time we reach his floor, Ivar’s free hand is sure to have bruised my ass with all the kneading and pinching and we are both out of breath. He backs me up against the wall, leaving me to search his pockets for the keys while he grabs at anything within his reach. The second the door closes behind us he tears at the zipper. The dress pools around my feet and Ivar suddenly forces me to take a step back, his hand keeping a vice-like grip on my shoulder. He inspects me from head to toe, grinning like a madman. His nails dig into my skin.

“You know where to go, Fredrika.” He husks. As soon as Ivar lets me go I turn, stumbling in my heels, and make my way down the corridor with him stalking behind me. His cane clicks against the floor in time with my shoes. I push the door open then set to removing my heels. Ivar props himself up against the bookshelf, one hand working at his belt.

“On all fours.” He orders, swatting at my legs with his cane for good measure. Some part of my mind, that is trying to rationalize what I’m about to do, tells me that this is only happening because I miss Jonathan. That if I think of him while Ivar fucks me from behind I’ll feel better, that the betrayal will seem less severe. His cane rattles as it lands on the floor. Not a second later the mattress shifts as he settles behind me. I yelp at the sound of my underwear being ripped in half but he doesn’t slow down, tip already prodding at my entrance. Ivar fills me with one snap of his hips that has me gritting my teeth to keep from shouting. Any chance of imagining that it’s Jonathan behind me is gone. He grabs at my hair, tearing the bobby pins out as my entire body moves with each thrust. It should feel wrong but it doesn’t. Ivar stretches me perfectly, hitting just the right spot, and when his lips brush against my ear a pleasant shiver runs down my spine.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admits between pants “every time that I’ve jacked off for the last four years. About how your pussy would feel around my cock.” Tension begins to build between my legs, spreading throughout my body.

“Sara didn’t like that.” He adds in a purr and the satisfaction of knowing that flawless Sara had been jealous is enough to send me over the edge, a smug smile on my face. Ivar wastes no time, immediately pulling out and wrenching me onto my back instead. I’m not settled when he buries his cock inside me again with a grunt. Still dizzy from the orgasm, I feel how his hand creeps towards my neck.

“Be careful,” I whisper ”Not so ha-” Ivar’s hand closes around my throat. His grip is tight enough that it frightens me and I swat at his arm to make him loosen his grip, but Ivar doesn’t budge. I smile faintly, as if to say ‘come on’, and shove him again. He only presses harder. The blue of his eyes is gone, swallowed by his pupils. Had I been able to scream I would but all that comes out is a rasping noise. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. My vision begins to narrow, darkness creeping in from the corners, and I feel so incredibly light. Just as I think I’m about to lose consciousness, Ivar releases me. He ruts into me for another few seconds as I lie there sputtering and attempting to recover. Ivar’s body tenses and he shouts through his climax, giving one slow, final thrust before going still. He rolls off of me with a chuckle. My guilt-ridden conscience immediately kicks back in and demands that I get up and leave right this instant, escaping from the site of my failure. In my mind I’ve already started planning a trip to the pharmacy to get a morning after pill. But I’m too tired, too numb, to move. Ivar begins to croon words of praise and possessiveness. Eventually he falls asleep, his head resting against my shoulder, and hours later I do too.

 

 

Ivar wakes me the same way he did when we were still close. Though this time I can’t pretend not to notice his fingers in my hair. I flinch, whimper, then clench the covers in my fists. My body has curled in on itself during the night, instinctively increasing the distance between me and Ivar. But he is having none of it. Ivar snakes his arms around me and pulls me in close until I can’t avoid looking at him. He’s beaming at me, his blue eyes not leaving me for a second. If the guilt had been strong yesterday, it is nothing compared to now. I want to throw up. Shed my skin so that when I meet Jonathan at the airport, it won’t be in a body that Ivar has touched. 

“You still hog the covers.” He says softly.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE REMEMBER that the relationship portrayed in this oneshot is not healthy. For starters, Fredrika is engaged. She also has an issue with drinking but Ivar does not take this into consideration when seducing her. The consent here is far from optimal, due to both the alcohol and to Ivar pursuing Fredrika even though he knows she's engaged to someone else. Fredrika does enjoy choking, but the way Ivar goes about it in this scenario is wrong and dangerous.
> 
> Repeat after me: Not a healthy relationship.


End file.
